Death.

A cardboard casket, a chocolate-stained t-shirt on a broom, somber faces, bodies clad in black… the agony of the senior class. Democracy dies in darkness; disqualifications dismember souls.

“We are gathered here today, to celebrate a life lived too short.” One year was all we had, but really only one day. Who knew a painted stick carried so much emotion? We knew! We knew because last year the Spirit Stick was awarded to our class, so the senior class has felt the joy of hard work, unity, dress down days, limited budgets, mandatory evening decorating, and cavernous spaces craving the love of our decorations come together in the form of this stick that is untouchable 364 days a year, but loved and felt the Friday of homecoming.

BUT THIS YEAR WE WERE DEPRIVED OF WHAT WE YEARNED FOR. How could we allow the underclassmen (I don’t care what you say, juniors are underclassmen) take this beloved stick from us?

We remained powerless, unable to fight back with actions that would negatively reflect our grade, the Upper School, and result in off-campus privileges taken away. So instead, we mourned. We gathered in the burning morning sun that felt like the gates of Hell opening above us to remember the short time we had with the Spirit Stick. Holding hands and singing hymns, eulogies were given, and memories were reminisced. Such a shame to be deprived of a deserved win, but we will not let death pull us apart.